


The Absurd Man

by imonlyobsessed



Category: Leverage, Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imonlyobsessed/pseuds/imonlyobsessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Gemma.  Gemma was good people.  Ok, that was bullshit and she was a lying, conniving bitch.  But, she was a lying, conniving bitch with her heart in the right place.  Actually, she kind of reminded him of Nate and Sophie combined in all the worst ways.  More importantly though, she had been John Teller’s old lady and Corporal Teller had saved his daddy’s life in that jungle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Absurd Man

**Author's Note:**

> I have no reasonable excuse for this.

Clay Morrow was a self-serving piece of shit.  He’d been running his corner of the world too absolutely for too long and anyone who met him knew it.  With every swaggering step he took, it was as if the world trembled in his ears.  Clay pulled another drag off his half-decent cigar and exhaled slowly, the smoke curling in a thick cloud around his face like a B-movie devil, or a text book mob boss.  The man’s grin was slow and wide, too toothy to reach that good ol’ boy smile he was aiming for, instead crooking somewhere around a leer.  Having to be around him made Elliot’s skin crawl.  His lips pinched in a scowl that he didn’t even try to hide while he waited for Clay to finish his posturing and finally get to the point. 

Elliot wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Gemma.  Gemma was good people.  Ok, that was bullshit and she was a lying, conniving bitch.  But, she was a lying, conniving bitch with her heart in the right place.  Actually, she kind of reminded him of Nate and Sophie combined in all the worst ways.  More importantly though, she had been John Teller’s old lady and Corporal Teller had saved his daddy’s life in that jungle. Elliot only has vague memories of a man on a bike and this dark haired woman that smelled like cigarettes and baby powder when she hugged him.  He figured if he was about twenty years too late to help John Teller, he could at least help the man’s widow, and that's the kind of debt the team can't help with. Judging from the pinched expression on her face and the faded bruising around her eyes, he was pretty sure shipping Clay Morrow off to a windowless dungeon in some third world country might do her more help than anything she was asking for.  The way Jax was glaring Clay down and staying just a little too closely to his mother’s side said that he’d probably like that plan.  But for whatever reason, his roundabout prodding about her health only made Gemma and Jax both insist that what they needed was for Elliot to help Clay.  As for what Clay wanted…

The man finally finished his bullshitting and shifted carefully forward in his chair.  His complexion was paler than he probably realized and despite his attempts to seem like he was easily in control of the situation, there was a visible tightness in his shoulders and a slowness in his movements that bespoke a recent injury.  The kind that ended in an emergency room and kept a man edgy for a while.  Clay was checking Jax’s location almost as much as Jax was glaring at him and that all added up to a clusterfuck that Elliot wanted no part of.  

“My Old Lady tells me that you might be able to help us; that you’re the best at what you do.”

“She’s right.”

“What do you do, Mr. Spencer?”

Elliot glanced at Gemma before answering.  “I’m a retrieval specialist.”  This was not the conversation that he expected.

“A retrieval specialist.  Right.  Now, I’m a little fuzzy on the details so tell me, what does a ‘retrieval specialist’ do?  Exactly?”  That crooked grin was back and Elliot really wanted to knock those oversized teeth down Clay’s throat. 

“Means if you’ve lost something or found something you need, I can retrieve it for you.”

“Even if what I need is information?”

“Depends.  What information do you need, Mr. Morrow?”

“Call me Clay.”  Elliot continued to watch him impassively.  When it became clear that Elliot wasn’t going to make the same offer, Clay scowled and continued.  “We’ve recently entered a new business venture and we’re still getting our legs under us.  Our new partners seem to have brought a few enemies with them.  Now, I’m not one to back down from a good old fashioned fight, but this might be a little more than we can handle on our own.  And our friends are a little hesitant to stand with us in this.  We need some information about this new enemy.  Something we can take to our friends and smooth their ruffled feathers a bit.”

Suddenly, everything made sense.  Elliot was right; this was a clusterfuck that he couldn’t begin to get involved in.  “You want something on the Lobos Sonora to give to the Irish Kings.”

 “And how is it that you already know our business?”

Elliot snorted.  “There are men in your club house that sure as hell aren’t Sons.”

“No, they’re Mayans.  We finally made peace with them.”

“Bullshit.  One of them is a Mayan, sure, but the other guy only just came north of the border.”

Jax’s expression was guarded.  “How the hell do you know that?”  His hand was edging towards his gun, like he suddenly thought that maybe Elliot was on the wrong side.

Elliot rolled his eyes.  “He has a tattoo of a Brazilian Wandering Spider on his neck.  It’s the most venomous spider in the world.”

“So?”

“So, it’s also a tattoo reserved for lieutenants in the Galindo Cartel.  That means either they’re watching you, or you’re working for them.  The Galindos are as smart as they are ruthless.  Every cartel on the planet wants to see them taken down, but the Lobos Sonoras are the only ones powerful enough and with enough resources for you to be worried about.”

“You figured that out from a tat of a spider that you glanced at for less than half a second?”  Jax hand eased away from his gun.

“It’s a very distinctive tattoo.”

“Fine.  So will you help us?”  Clay was leaned forward, like he could catch the answer sooner.

“I can’t.”

Clay scowled again, the last edges of his bullshit persona finally dropping away.  What was left behind was a tired old man, too greedy to give up his ride even though he should have quit years ago.  “And why not?”

“Because what you want doesn’t exist.  There isn’t some secret piece of information that is suddenly going to turn the Kings in the Galindos’ favor.  The Kings are old world bureaucrats fighting a fight that’s been happening their entire lives and then some.  The Galindos aren’t.   It doesn’t matter what evidence I find against the Lobos, or for the Galindos.  To the Irish, they’re all young heathens fighting over who gets the best toys.  There is nothing that’s going to get them to deal with the Galindos directly and get you out of the middle.  I can’t help you with this."  Elliot faced the woman who'd called him here,”I’m sorry Gemma.”

Her shoulders slumped the tiniest fraction.  “It’s alright, Elliot.  I’m sure you would if you could.  Wouldn’t you?”  She met his eyes and lifted a sardonic brow.

Elliot wanted to squirm under that look, but damned if he was gonna let her know it.  “Yes, ma’am.  If I can help you with something else, if there’s someone else you need gotten to, I will gladly give you a hand.”  He could see Clay shifting uncomfortably in his peripheral vision.  Clay knew something was being said that he wasn’t quite getting, and the way his eyes darted from Jax to Elliot and back made Elliot think that Clay wasn’t completely clueless either. 

“No, sweetheart, I don’t think there is.”  The lines around her eyes deepened considerably, and Gemma’s smile was bitter and broken.  That, more than anything else he’d seen made Elliot want to drag Clay out of there by his balls.

“If that ever changes, you call me.”  Elliot waited, knowing she wasn’t going to change her mind, but hoping anyway. 

Gemma took the four steps that separated them and laid a gentle hand on his cheek.  “You’re a good man, Elliot.  Your daddy would be very proud of you.  But that’s a fight this family has to fight for itself.  The rest, well… I _was_ hoping you could help with that.”

“If your allies ever shift, or your business changes and I can help, don’t hesitate to call me.  I’ll do what I can.” 

Gemma smiled again, a real smile this time.  “We will.”

Elliot nodded and turned back to the men in the room.  Jax was still sitting at the head of the table, though he’d scooted closer to the edge when Gemma had walked away, and Clay was still sitting across the table from where Elliot was standing.  He was pissed but some weird shift in power dynamics left him not able to do anything.  Again Elliot wondered what exactly was going on but he knew he wouldn’t get an answer.  Disregarding Clay’s brooding he held his hand out to Jax, “Jax.  Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”  Jax shook his hand briefly, his lips pressed together in a tight line.  Elliot only glanced at Clay, “Mr. Morrow.”  He saw the absolute fury wash over Clay’s features as he turned away and back to Gemma.  “Gemma.”

“Elliot.”  She put her arms around him, hugging him tightly.  “Thank you for coming, sweetheart.  Stay in touch this time.  I don’t want to go another eight years without hearing from you.”

“Yes ma’am.”  He only hesitated a little before hugging her back.  His arm brushed against the handle of a gun at the small of her back and the bitter smell of cigarettes almost covered the light sweetness of baby powder.  Everything the same as the one, fragmented memory he had of her from his childhood. 

“All this ma’am shit.  You’re too polite, kid.”  There were crinkles at the corners of his eyes when she kissed his cheek before letting him go.  She leaned back against the table and watched him walk out the double doors. 

“Jax, we can’t just let this guy walk away like that!”  Clay tried to shout it, but he was too breathless, playing like he wasn’t hurt had left him too worn out.

“You couldn’t stop him.”  Gemma crossed her arm and looked back over her shoulder at the man she had loved unconditionally for almost 20 years.  “Leave him alone, Clay.  I promise you, this whole damned club could die trying, and Elliot Spencer would still walk out our front door.  He grew up to be even more dangerous than his dad.”

“Jesus.  Do I wanna know who his dad was?” Jax grumbled.

Gemma watched the closed door for a moment longer before smiling at her son.  “I will say this.  John always did make the most interesting friends.” 

Late that night, after Clay passed out and she had finally convinced Jax to go home, she got out the card that Elliot had slipped into her back pocket.  Just a plain white business card with nothing printed on it but a phone number.  On the back, written in ink, “ _In case you change your mind_ ”.  She studied the neat writing for a moment, thinking that it suited Elliot.  A smile was still tugging at her lips when she put the card to the candle flame.


End file.
